Reckoning
by almostclover
Summary: It's been 10 years since they left the world of vampires behind to start their life together, but the Salvatore family is back in Mystic Falls...
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

She'd been as intense as a lightening storm from the moment of her birth—smart, cunning, and curious to a fault. Even as she was learning to toddle around the house, her meaty little hands clinging to the furniture for dear life, she had this determined look in her eye like she was about to embark on a grand adventure.

That's why when her raggedly tired mother walks in her room to flip her light on and tell her it's time to get ready for school, she isn't all that surprised to find an empty bed and an open window. Inconsolable, but not surprised.

"Damon," she screams, and it reminds her of high school days when daily life was filled with this sort of high-stakes terror. A lot has changed since then, she muses through blistering tears. She wonders, even as she collapses on the floor of her little girl's bedroom, if her heart can possibly take any more.

He is at her side faster than she can imagine, almost like he reached her at vampire speed, even though she knows that isn't physically possible. Their relationship has been strained for months now, tossed about in the waves of the ordinary. You'd never know it, though, the way he pulls her limp body into his lap and caresses her cheek as though she is the most delicate creature he's ever laid eyes on. "Lena, wake up."

His soothing words bring her back to reality and as her eyes flutter open, she finds herself looking deep into his. The concern that rests at his brow is identical to their eldest daughter's, and it's enough to send her reeling again, sobbing as she draws him into a tight embrace. "She's gone, Damon, Stefanie's gone."

It's only then that he seems to notice the empty bed and the open window, the fact that his little girl, his pride and joy, has vanished. The anger that once overcame him as a vampire has not made an appearance for many years. Elena once laughed at him and told him that becoming a dad made him soft, but he knows it isn't true. He still feels with as much passion as he ever did, he just chooses to control it these days for the sake of his family.

His family. His heart wretches in righteous anger as he stands, his wife falling from his arms. Just as he lets out a blood curdling scream and is rearing back to punch the wall, a droopy little face appears in the doorway still clutching his blanket.

"Daddy? Mommy?" Terror glistens in his mother's doe eyes. "What's wrong?"

It's enough to snap Damon out of his rage and center his mind on the situation at hand. He is a father. His daughter is missing. His wife is inconsolable and his son is terror-stricken. As Elena reaches forward and pulls the boy into her arms, kissing his forehead and assuring him everything will be alright, he reaches for the cell phone to call Matt Donovan at the Sheriff's department and report a missing person. It's all he can do to keep it together, but he knows he must. After over 150 years of ripping people's throats out at will, it feels strange to rely on the feeble law enforcement to find his daughter, but he has no other choice.

* * *

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading this introduction to a story I hope to flesh out (lol bad vampire joke) within the next few weeks! I hope you enjoyed! Comment with any suggestions you have and follow for updates!


	2. Chapter 1

**Two Months Prior**

It's Valentine's Day, but Elena Salvatore can definitively state that she's never felt less sexy in her life. Between the oatmeal stain on the left shoulder of her scrubs from battling Grays at breakfast this morning to the purple bags under her eyes from staying up to late to finish reports, it's all she can take to write out an IOU note and leave it on the counter for Damon to see when he gets home.

_Love you, babe._ It reads. _We'll do something special soon, I promise. Just the two of us. Happy Valentine's Day!_

While it has been one of the greatest joys of her life to give birth to and nurture four beautiful children, some days she finds herself missing simpler times when it was just her and Damon. And, if she's honest with herself, there are times when her mind aimlessly wanders to the days she reveled in as a vampire. Of course, at the time it was all she could take to get through it, but that was before she became a mom. Some of that super speed and compulsion would come in handy these days.

"Mommy…" A little voice calls out, halting her train of thought and drawing her back to reality. "Can you tie my shoes?"

Luther, one of her five-year-old twins comes hobbling over to her, shoelaces dragging the floor, looking frustrated. They've been working tirelessly to master the skill for weeks now, but, much like potty training and trying new foods, success is hit or miss. She kneels to fulfill his request, kissing him on the cheek when she's finished and not bothering to rise from the floor, knowing it won't be long before Levi comes in asking the same favor. Sure enough, it's only a matter of seconds before she's lacing up a second pair of shoes.

"Come on, guys!" She calls out in the tone Damon fondly makes fun of every chance he gets. "We're going to be late. Get downstairs now!"

While waiting for the kids, Elena pulls her calendar out of her purse to check her schedule for the week. As a college student, she dreamed of becoming a doctor and making the world a better place, but that was before Stef came along and surprised everyone. Instead, she graduated from nursing school with a 2-year-old and thought of herself as more of a hero than ever before. Damon once asked her if she had any regrets and in complete sincerity, she couldn't fathom things turning out any differently. Her intense little girl with her father's sapphire blue eyes had been worth every change of plan, even if it means putting herself through graduate school at 32.

"Downstairs now, gang! I mean it!" She smiles to herself at the sound of little feet hurrying around on the second floor and realizes that the tension she feels is already subsiding. Crazy as her life may be, it's exactly what she always dreamed of. Running a hand through her shoulder-length mess of mom curls, she lets out the final warning, and then charges up the staircase to round up all the little bodies and backpacks she can find.

* * *

It's barely two o'clock in the afternoon, but Damon has officially checked out for the day. He prefers to teach morning classes when his mind is fresh and his coffee is piping hot. The history department typically lets him do as he pleases, but then there's office hours, and for all of his talent at avoiding things he isn't particularly fond of in life, he hasn't yet managed to think of a way out of discussing term paper guidelines with over-invested freshmen.

Fortunately for him, office hours in mid-February are relatively pointless, so rather than do something productive like plan his next lecture or grade last week's quizzes, he reclines with his legs crossed on top of his desk and throws darts aimlessly at the board on the back of his office door musing about how he should spend Valentine's Day with Elena.

They've done the whole romantic dinner at an expensive restaurant thing countless times and it just doesn't feel right. Bonnie would offer to babysit in a heartbeat, but he knows that it would be a strained attempt at reconciliation, and she would probably end up more frustrated with him than ever before.

He gets it—that's what she probably doesn't understand. He knows that he isn't rising to the occasion as the best father on the block. She is balancing motherhood, domestic duties, and a swing shift at the hospital, all while studying to be a nurse practitioner, and she's doing a _damn_ good job at it. He, on the other hand, is failing miserably at keeping everything together in the meantime. She yells at him when he tries to help her and so he stops trying, and then she yells at him for not trying hard enough. She's always been a stress fighter, but its only gotten worse as the years have gone by. He can't help but feel like their life together is becoming a one-woman show and that it's just a matter of time before she realizes he is more of a detriment to her success than an asset.

Nevertheless, he's determined to keep trying because a life with her is the only human life he's ever wanted. Just as a dart lands swiftly on the target, the idea of the century bursts into his mind, and, just like that, he's on his feet, grabbing his jacket and telling the department secretary he's taking the rest of the day off.

* * *

The afternoon at the hospital drags on, so much so that Elena thinks she might scream if another patient presses their call button just to ask for some toothpaste. It's a small hospital and they're already short-staffed, so while she's technically the lead nurse in her department, her work life is very similar to her life at home—wiping bottoms and noses, retrieving lost items, and offering words of encouragement to tearful faces.

She's tired. She rarely admits it to herself, but it's a fact. When she gets a free minute to fill in charts and eat a granola bar in the break room, she feels the weight of it all in her joints and muscles and she knows that she should slow down, but she doesn't have time to worry with that now, not when there's one more chart to write, one more parent-teacher conference to attend, one more sink full of dishes to wash, and one more exam to study for.

As she takes a deep breath and attempts to find some solace in her moment alone, her eyes fall on a box of pink and red cupcakes on the break room table. _That's right_, she laughs to herself. _It's Valentine's Day. Of course it's Valentine's Day. _Her heart wretches in guilt. She's been so selfish lately when it comes to her relationship with Damon, treating him like another obligation on her to-do list rather than as her soulmate and partner in crime.

He's trying, she knows that. She can see it in his eyes every time she launches into a frantic tirade, blaming him for everything and nothing in particular. It's the tenderness in his eyes that keeps her centered, stable. This fact alone sends her thoughts spiraling out of control as her heart rate skyrockets. She rarely does anything spontaneous anymore, but part of her that she has long since buried within still craves the recklessness that he brought into her life all those years ago.

Her mind is awash with explosive memories as she clocks out, informing the department manager that she'll be taking the afternoon off without stopping so long as to see his reaction. It's exhilarating, and it shouldn't be, considering she once jumped off of a clock tower and drove a car through a brick wall. Even still, as she throws her car in reverse, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror and she knows that this mission she's about to embark on is just as risky as any before.

* * *

Author's Note: Ahhh... I'm so excited to finish this Valentine's Day storyline that I can hardly stand it! Stay tuned! In the meantime, I know this is completely different from the introduction, but I promise it will all make sense soon!


	3. Chapter 2

When he walks through the entryway of his home, the silence throws him. Typically, when he arrives home it's already 5 or 6 o'clock and the kids are running around like lunatics while Elena is cursing in the kitchen, trying her hardest to prepare a decent nutritious dinner for them. He chuckles at the thought of her latest attempt at sneaking veggies into their hamburger patties. By the time the prep work was over, she had more carrot shavings on her shirt than in the dish and Grays still managed to shove her plate onto the floor.

When he enters the kitchen, he finds it in just as big of a wreck as he suspected. He might not have the luxury of being a germaphobe anymore, but he still cringes at the sight of his home. Oatmeal is splattered across the counter in what can only be his picky three-year-old's handiwork. Muddy footprints encircle the island, the lightbulb above the breakfast nook is flickering, and there's a trail of ants descending into the pile of dirty dishes that barely fits within the confines of the sink basin. He sighs, and just as he's about to queeze his eyes shut in frustration, he catches a glimpse of a note on the counter, written in Elena's classic hurried script.

_Love you, babe._ _We'll do something special soon, I promise. Just the two of us. Happy Valentine's Day!_

It's all he can do not to burst into tears. _This woman. _He will never get over this woman—the woman who undoubtedly wiped their daughter's oatmeal-covered face and changed her clothes before sending her to daycare, forgetting all about the splatter on the counter, the woman who told her twin boys for the thousandth time to take their shoes off at the door only to find them tossing a ball around the island in muddy sneakers, the woman who wondered on her way out the door whether or not her deadbeat of a husband was ever going to wise up and rise to the occasion, hoping he would, but knowing, believing, she'd enter the house to the same mess she left it in.

Not today, she wouldn't. His heart begins to swell with affection as he rummages through the junk drawer for a spare lightbulb and runs a basin full of warm soapy water for the dishes. No one in their right mind would call his current situation "romantic," but he is bound and determined to show Elena he's in it for the long haul.

* * *

When she arrives at home, she flies through the door like a whirlwind, her mind on such a trip that she fails to notice the freshly mopped floor, the brightly lit breakfast nook, or the fact that her husband is elbow deep in sudsy dishes at 2:47 in the afternoon. Nevertheless, when she sees him, her eyes brighten, and she runs over to him before he can question her presence, leaping into his arms like the lovesick teenager she was all those years ago. Before he can protest, she's pulling his mouth to hers, dragging her tongue across his lower lip and causing him to stumble backward against the countertop. She lets out a satisfied giggle at his response to her.

"What are you…?" He breathes out, but she's already captured his mouth again and he's never been one to protest a little affection, particularly when he's spent the last hour pining after this woman he loves more than life itself. After that, it's a rush of emotion so thick it overpowers the smell of the Clorox he used on the floor, and before either of them are fully aware of what's going on, he's dumping her on the couch in the living room and climbing on top of her. And as he presses sloppy kisses down her neckline, a youthful giggle falls out of her mouth. She can't remember the last time they were like this together, carefree and completely overwhelmed with each other. She may have forgotten how much she missed it, but it doesn't take her long to remember as he runs the pads of his fingers along her waistline, transforming her laughter into a string of soft whimpers pressed against his jawline.

Just when she thinks she might never be able to get enough of this vitality that is suddenly running through her veins, he peels himself off of her and plants himself on the opposite end of the sofa, pulling her feet into his lap before she has a chance to question him. He's unlacing her sneakers and pulling off her socks, leaving her to prop herself up on her elbows and wait for an explanation. "As much as I want to take you to bed right now, I can't."

"What's wrong?" She can't see herself, but she knows the look on her face almost breaks him. Regardless, he just lets out a deep sigh and begins to massage her feet with the utmost care and devotion. It's alarming, in a way, if she's being completely honest, because she's never known Damon to retreat from intimacy before, particularly when her behavior is so obviously wanton.

"I've not been a good husband or father lately and I want to make it up to you. You don't have to put on a show for me today, babe. I called Bonnie and asked her to pick up the kids this afternoon. I took off early and cleaned the kitchen and I'm going to fix us a nice dinner while you sit back and relax." He pats her leg with his signature smirk plastered across his face and then, as if he's completely satisfied with himself, he rises from his seat and returns to the kitchen. "I was thinking Italian, how does that sound to you?"

_Completely domestic, safe._ She thinks, but she forces herself to swallow her objections. "Sounds lovely!" She calls in response, but when she hears the sound of his whistling, she lets herself fall back against the cushion, wondering when her life became so ordinary.

* * *

"I went and picked up your car." The line falls out of her mouth like she's being robbed at gunpoint and those are her final words. He hadn't really planned far enough ahead to anticipate her reaction to his plans, but he can say with certainty he never expected her to be like this. Sitting across from her at the dinner table, she's hardly said a word to him. It's only after he lets himself analyze her every facial feature in a desperate attempt to understand what's happening that he lets himself take in what she said.

"You did what?" His eyes grow big in unfettered shock. "I thought we agreed that the car needed to be put away for good, Elena. It's in our past. Alaric agreed to keep it in the garage at the Salvatore School."

"I know, but…" The hint of shyness that makes her gaze falter is somewhat of a comfort to him. At least she's just as confused and unsure as he is. "I was sitting at work today just thinking about how things used to be and I missed it. I missed sitting in the passenger seat with my hair blowing freely in the wind. I missed the smell of crisp leather and the old fashioned radio dials. I missed the roar of the engine and the wash of teal pulling into my driveway. But most of all, I missed you, Damon—the one who would slip in the driver's seat and press his hand against the inside of my thigh, flashing me with your bedroom eyes and taunting me with your reckless driving."

As she gains confidence, her eyes steadily meet his again, her pupils dilated to the point that there can be no doubt as to what she wants. And yet, she can tell by the look in his eye that he no intention of giving it to her.

If there was ever a moment when he could definitively say that things fell apart, it would be then.

* * *

Author's Note: So he decides he needs to be more safe and civil for her and she decides she needs to be more daring and adventurous for him and… here we are. Don't you wish you could just talk some sense in to them? Don't worry… we're about to flash forward to present day!


	4. Chapter 3

**Present Day**

"And she's been acting completely normal over the past few days?" Matt's pacing is jarring all of the living room furniture, but Elena doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop. If she weren't holding tightly to her three-year-old, she'd probably be doing the exact same thing. The past few hours have been a complete blur.

Damon's voice crackles as he clears it from the corner of the room, pouring himself a generous portion of his finest scotch. He doesn't drink much anymore, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Elena has to admit that the man has devised some of his best plans under the influence of alcohol, so she chooses not to comment. "She asked me a very strange question a few weeks back and I haven't stopped thinking about it since…" His voice trails off as his eyes lock with his wife's piercing gaze. Only when her brow furrows does he realize he completely forgot to tell her what happened.

"Well?" Her voice slices through the tension in the room and he convinces himself that her tone is laced with fear rather than indignation. These days, though, he never knows.

"I went into her room to tell her good night and she was still up at her desk scribbling in her notebook. I jokingly asked if she was nocturnal and told her it was time for bed. Then, she looked up at me with this intense curiosity and asked me how many vampires I knew…"

* * *

"What's your name?"

"Sarah." The lie slices through her teeth before she can reign it back in, her heart hammering in her chest. She hadn't come here with the intent of being deceitful, but she was raised to trust her instincts, and right now they're screaming at her not to let her guard down. "Sarah Sterling."

Nothing about her plan is turning out the way she'd hoped. All she'd wanted was answers to the questions her parents refused to give her, and that seemed like a pretty simple task at the time. After all, the Salvatore School couldn't deny Stefanie _Salvatore _anything, could they? She'd woken up at 3 a.m. and slipped out her window into the wooded area behind her home that had always been off limits for her and her siblings. When she was little, the thought of disobeying her doting parents never crossed her mind, but as she grew older and they installed a tall security fence at the back of the property, her curiosity started to run wild. It was only a matter of time before she realized that an elusive boarding school with her family's own namesake was at the other side of the property, and the desire for answers had been gnawing at her soul ever since.

Dr. Saltzman looks perplexed, more curious than angry, and she finds it strangely comforting. Deep within his gaze there is an unraveling. "So how did you find your way to us, Sarah?" he ponders aloud as more of an observation than a question, tapping a pen on his solid wood desk, "And why are you here?"

She knows she isn't obligated to answer his question, but realizes it might help her case if she is able to give him the finest of reasons to trust her enough to stay, if even for a short time. It won't be long before her parents are hot on her trail, she's sure of that, so she intends to find out as much as she can in the meantime. The lie that falls easily off her tongue, a tale of childhood trauma and vampirism, surprises her more than anyone.

"We don't usually accept students who find their way to us of their own accord, but your story has struck a chord with me and I can't help but think the mission of this place is to help kids like you find their place in the world. I'll give you one chance and we'll meet again at the end of the term to discuss further plans. Now, one more thing…"

The door opens and a tall teenage boy in a sweater vest comes her way. She knows he's a vampire, but she isn't sure how. "You won't remember any of this," he says sternly, holding her gaze. "You'll go back to wherever you came from and forget about this school and everyone you met while you were here."

She blinks, a look of confusion on her face as she scans the room, all eyes on her. And it's the strangest thing because she remembers.

* * *

"She was asking about vampires and you just forgot to mention that to me?!" The glint of indignation in Elena's gaze turns ravenous. "We agreed long ago to tread through these murky waters together, Damon. How dare you hide this from me!"

Before the fight can turn physical, Matt interjects, bringing the couple back to the reality of the situation. "Regardless of his reasoning, Elena, what's past has past. We can only hope that he can recall enough details to help us determine if what happened that night is even relevant to the case at hand."

The silence that settles around them is loud enough to clear the air. They're all on the same page. Not only is the information relevant, it is the dawning of a living nightmare. Sweet Stefanie, who still has to launch herself onto her bathroom counter to reach the towel rack, knows enough about the little secret they've been keeping to ask a matter-of-fact question about it, and she could be in grave danger because of it.

Elena stands and shifts Grays to her hip as the little girl starts to rub her eyes. It's her nap time, so it's only fitting to put her to bed, but Elena can't seem to fathom the thought of letting her out of her sight for even a moment. "Just let her nap on the couch," Damon catches her gaze and holds it knowingly. It's been a long time since they shared a connection so deep and it is filled with aching nostalgia, but Elena is grateful for the moment that she doesn't have to voice her fears aloud.

Once their daughter is fast asleep on the sofa, Elena finds her way to Damon's chalice of bourbon and downs the rest of the glass, the liquid courage clearing her mind enough to launch her from flight to fight. "Well," she offers, when it's clear no one else will make a move. "Go get her desk and bring it in here. We can search through her things and see if we find anything suspicious, and then we'll go from there."

It's a feeble plan, one that doesn't involve spells and visions and supernatural aid, but right now it's all they have.

It's only when Elena begins to flip through her daughter's journals that she realized just how significant it might turn out to be.

* * *

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in updating! I had surgery a few weeks ago and haven't had the time or energy to put into writing. Nevertheless, here we are… Back to the land of the present and drowning in unanswered questions! I am still working out many of the details in this storyline and so, as always, I'm open to any plot suggestions or critiques!


	5. Chapter 4

Hours bleed into days in the search for Stefanie. Community members come out in droves, searching creek beds and wielding casserole dishes and offering somber vigils, doing all the things that humans do when their children go missing.

Actions meant to comfort only haunt Elena, taunting her with the reality of the situation. Her eldest daughter, her spitting image, has vanished into thin air and she wants nothing more than to scream at the news outlets that cover the story with presuming headlines like "kidnapping" and "runaway." If only it were that simple.

When she drops into bed at the end of a particularly long day with no leads, she's surprised to find her husband's solid form filling the hollow on his side of the bed. These days, he typically sleeps on the sofa, if he even sleeps at all. Years of vampirism turned him into somewhat of an insomniac and stressful situations like the one they are living do nothing to ease his blaring soul. If she's honest with herself, she can relate quite well. But they don't talk about what they have in common anymore.

"Remember what you told me when I was frantically searching for Stefan…" Her voice is soft, but it fills their silent room, settling about them in an unspoken truce. It's the first time she's acknowledged his presence since she pointed to his keys yesterday before work, the first time she's spoken directly to him in over four days.

He doesn't know what to say because the moment seems so paper thin. Is she baiting him? Is this another one of her schemes to prove he's unworthy of everything on the face of the earth? Probably.

Even so, the moment can't last forever, so he punctures the silence with his hesitant reply. "I told you we'd find him and we did."

She reaches out for him in the darkness and it startles him at first, but then he's rescinding under her touch, as he always does, letting her pull him closer until they are chest to chest, skin to skin. They both draw in a breath in unison at the contact.

"We found him and I found you." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and if he weren't already completely tuned in to her methodical breathing, he probably would've missed it entirely. And then he's drifting off to sleep, caught in that winnowy world between reality and dreams. Just as he loses consciousness, he wonders if she even said it at all.

* * *

"Sterling!" From the bustle of the school courtyard during lunch hour, it's a wonder she hears her pseudonym being called across the crowd, let alone remembers to respond to it. She's surprised when her eyes lock with one of the upperclassmen who is walking her way with a look of purpose painted across her brow. "Are you Sarah Sterling?"

The young girl swallows, mentally weighing the implications of her answer. "Yes, of course. It's nice to meet you…" Her voice trails off when she realizes she hasn't the slightest clue who this girl is, only the sixth sense that she is some sort of cross between a vampire and a werewolf and that she has a lot of power that she has yet to fully understand.

"Hope," the teenager croons. "I'm Hope Michaelson and I've been sent by Dr. Saltzman himself to show you around. Why, I don't know, considering they usually plan for the new recruits to join orientation groups, but here we are." The girl, Hope, has a warm smile, but it doesn't completely mask her suspicion.

When this plan first came to her, it wasn't her intent to run away from home and stay at the Salvatore School for an extended amount of time. She only wanted to drop in and use her name to leverage answers that her parents refuse to give.

The web of lies she's hidden herself in is already proving to be too much. _My name is Sarah Sterling, _she rehearses in head. _I am nine-years-old. I was born in Atlantic City to a no-count teenage couple involved in hardcore drug abuse. My mother was turned into a vampire when she was pregnant with me and accidentally turned me on a high a few months back. _

It's a gruesome story, one that a middle-class suburban elementary schooler should not bear the burden of carrying. That's the reason, she's guessing, why no one has questioned it so far.

Early on, she picks up on the fact that Hope has a lot of freedom at Salvatore School. While most students follow a strict schedule and are expected to abide by all rules at all times, Hope seems to float under the radar. "Is there anything in particular you want to see?" Hope dangles a set of keys in front of her, keys that, if Stefanie had to guess, have the potential to unlock a lot of the answers to her questions. So rather than attempt to poke and prod for answers like an annoying eight-year-old, she decides to make friends in hopes of leveraging the opportunity. "Show me your favorite things about the school."

* * *

Warmth. It overtakes her when she awakes and she allows herself to drown in it for a moment, breathing in the scent of Damon's firm chest and sighing in utter contentedness. Only when the haze of sleep wears off does she come back to her senses, remembering that her daughter has been missing for a week and that the man who's arms are encircling her hips is partially to blame.

The more productive, mature way of handling this situation would involve forgiveness and solidarity, but Elena simply doesn't have the energy to reconcile right now.

He shifts in his sleep, drawing her impossibly closer against his chest, sending her heart shattering into a frenzy. Despite everything that's happened, her body never fails to respond to him, and in a moment of pure hedonism, she lets herself drown in pleasure, breathing him in as his lips drowsily trace the shell of her ear.

He's asleep, she's sure. He would never have the audacity to touch her otherwise. Ever since their Valentine's Day fiasco, he treats her like a hand grenade and maybe she deserves it.

"Mommy!" Little feet pitter-patter around the edge of the bed and the mattress gives as four little feet climb up the bed frame and bury themselves under the covers. "Mommy! Daddy! We're hungry!"

A family was something Elena always dreamed of, but she'd be lying to herself if she said the routine domesticity of it suited her. In that way, she is more like her sleeping husband—or at least she used to be. It's Saturday morning and she peels herself out of bed before she can talk herself into something less responsible.

If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to return to her husband's arms again and fall into a fitful, oblivious sleep. But she makes six pancakes anyway because old habits die hard and she refuses to give up hoping that her little girl will come home.

* * *

Author's Note: As you can see, this story has become a bit of a crossover with the show Legacies. My intent is not to marry the two (I've only seen the first two episodes of Legacies), but to create a sense of continuity with the existing canon. Besides, who doesn't want to bring back the glorious boarding house? As always, reviews are appreciated!


	6. Chapter 5

Hope and Stefanie meander through the halls of the school in comfortable silence, weaving about through the masses of students rushing to their next class. The entire place feels strangely familiar. "What's the history of this place?" Stefanie wonders aloud, tracing her hand over the crown molding. "It feels ancient."

Unconcerned with Stefanie's question, Hope offers a flippant reply. "Never mind all that. You'll find out more than you ever wanted to know in lecture with Dr. Saltzman. He's particularly proud of the place and will be happy to indulge your curiosity."

Stefanie tries not to look defeated, picking up her pace to keep up with Hope as they descend the stairs into what appears to be a garage. "This place," Hope beams, "I know it doesn't look like much, but I think Dr. Saltzman does it on purpose. It looks like a regular old workshop, but it contains a collection of the finest supernatural tools ever to grace the face of the planet. It's locked, of course, so don't get any ideas." She giggles with a sense of authority as she rattles her keys and shoves one into door in front of her.

A vintage blue Camaro. It's the first and last thing she sees. Sure, there are herbs growing haphazardly about the room and assorted trinkets from a bygone era fill every surface and work table, but none of them catch her eye.

"Whose car is that?" Stefanie stops in her tracks.

"Oh, that old thing," Hope is clearly unimpressed, "The man who donated his home for the purposes of establishing this school asked Dr. Saltzman to look after it, so it just sits here taking up space. I asked if we could just get rid of it, but he was adamant to adhere to the owner's single request. I think it's all quite odd."

Stefanie's thoughts run wild as she approaches the car, Hope busying herself with a pile of artifacts. "My dad was a mechanic," she lies through her teeth, tracing her hand over the hood of the car, "He didn't teach me much in the time I knew him, but he showed me how to appreciate a nice car, and this is a nice car."

"Yeah, whatever." Hope's amusement is waning, but she can't bring herself to care anymore. She's onto something.

Carefully lifting the handle of the backseat passenger door, she runs her hand along the seat pocket knowing full well what she will find. Her hand catches on a flimsy piece of construction paper, and it's all she needs to confirm her suspicions.

_Happy Valentine's Day Mom & Dad_, the card reads. And just because she's still not completely convinced this is possible, she runs her fingers along the heart-shaped script. Flipping it over is enough to take her breath away… _Love, Stefanie._

* * *

Sprawled out in the middle of their living room floor, Damon combs over his daughter's assorted drawings and writings for what seems like the thousandth time. Intermixed with cartoon puppies and homework assignments is the strangest combination of supernatural knowledge he's ever seen. Now that he's had time to process the fact that his daughter is all-too aware of this dimension of life, it's no longer shocking. Disturbing, but not shocking, and that's all it takes for him to focus on the task at hand.

Still, it's a maddeningly emotional process. As parents, they had long ago resolved to let their children live autonomous, self-directed lives and to trust them enough to let them have space and privacy to grow. That's why, he tells himself, he feels a knot building in his throat as he flips through the pages of his firstborn's diary, allowing the words to seep into his mind and soul. Or maybe it has more to do with the fact that the voice who is speaking them is her's.

_I'm the only one in my class who has parents who used to be vampires. _He reads from an entry in January of this year, his eyes all but skittering to a stop on the page and his heart picking up the slack. The words leap off the page in Stefanie's characteristically blunt cadence, embedded in no context and stated matter-of-factly as if it is nothing out of the ordinary. She simply states the fact and moves on to describing how angry she is at some girl in her class who started a rumor about her on the playground.

"Someone told her about us." The words fall out of Damon's mouth as soon as his wife gets home from her first shift at the hospital since their daughter's disappearance. When her tired, dejected eyes signal she has no idea what he's talking about, he clears his throat and says it out loud for the first time. "Someone told Stefanie we were vampires."

The house is nearly silent for the remainder of the evening give or take the occasional stampede of little feet in the playroom upstairs. Even so, Damon's thoughts are loud.

"Who could have told her?" Elena wonders aloud from her spot on the sofa, where she sits clinging to her knees.

Names and places, ideas and scenarios have been whirring through his mind all day, but none of them seem remotely plausible, so he offers her a pain-filled shrug and lifts his bourbon to his lips.

* * *

The next few days at the Salvatore School pass in a surprisingly uneventful manner. Stefanie attends her classes and makes new friends and tries to forget the fact that she has made very little progress and that her parents are probably worried sick. All she knows for certain is that her parents have a massive connection to this place. Either, she presumes, they know the donor well enough to borrow his car for Valentine's Day excursions, or, and she's hardly let herself think of it, they _are _the donors.

She's sitting in a class dedicated to detailing the origins of each supernatural species when she first entertains the thought. Objectively, she knows that her parents were once vampires, but she has always had a difficult time coming to terms with this knowledge, especially considering they are the only supernatural creatures she's ever known aside from her new friends at the school.

The instructor drones on at the front of the classroom about the first vampires and she knows she should be taking notes, but she just can't make herself pay attention. "Compulsion," he writes on the board, underlining it thickly. "As you all well know, compulsion is a unique gift of the vampire species. With a little practice, it allows you to control the behaviors of another individual by simply looking them straight in the eye and telling them what you want them to do."

Interest suddenly peaked, Stefanie turns her gaze back toward the front of the classroom. Willing herself to sound as nonchalant as possible, she lifts her hand in the air. "And who exactly is exempt from compulsion?" The weight of the unanswered question hangs in the air.

"Good question, Stefanie." The instructor looks pleased. "Compulsion is almost global, meaning it works on humans and most other supernatural creatures. Other vampires, of course, are exempt from its effects, and a few superior creatures that we will discuss in later coursework."

_Superior creatures. _The phrase rings in Stefanie's head for the remainder of class, long after everyone else's minds have moved on to other topics. The new information is enough to send her curiosity reeling to all-time heights as she remembers her very first day in Dr. Saltzman's office when the young vampire looked into her eyes and told her to forget about the school and go back where she came from. She isn't a vampire, of course, but her unconscious ability to withstand this compulsion was enough to convince the headmaster otherwise.

As the bell rings and students begin to collect their books, she remains frozen in place, pencil drumming against the wooden desk as she wonders for the first time _not _who her parents might've been but instead who she might be.

* * *

Author's Note: Keep the reviews coming! Now that I'm able to update on a more consistent basis, I look forward to hearing from more of you. Drop me a comment to let me know what you think so far or ask a question. Speaking of, I had a question this week about Stefanie's age! In my mind, she is 8 years old, but I have intentionally left if vague so that you all can interpret it however you wish. If you haven't picked up on it yet, she's obviously a very gifted young lady! On that same note, the twins are 5 and Grays is 3. Feel free to share your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 6

No words have been exchanged to say as much, but Elena knows that her husband sees her heart softening toward him, and it is strangely comforting to her. With relatively little word on their daughter's whereabouts, aching grief has become commonplace, and they are united in that much, at least. It's almost too much, dealing with the drum of the routine despite it all, and she knows that she would be lost without him.

"I'm giving an exam today, so I should be finished early. I'll take the boys to little league practice after." His voice rings out in the kitchen as he loads his briefcase and scarfs down a slice of toast. Their morning routine has always been chaotic, but since Stefanie's disappearance, the lunacy has only been amplified as they cling awkwardly to the mundane for the sake of their own sanity.

Elena sits in front of their youngest daughter who is happily crunching away at a granola bar at the table, barely noticing the fact that she's beginning to slowly overcome her aversion to food and certainly not celebrating it. She simply runs her hand through her daughter's messy curls and kisses the top of her head as her husband makes his way toward the back door.

"Hey," she interjects, once his hand has already started turning the knob. It's been weeks since their parting words have held anything but rushed plans and reminders, so he expects nothing less. She's already up out of her seat, though, when he turns around, toward him and enveloping him in a hug before he has the chance to question it. "Be safe," she breathes out against his neck, her voice soft like a child's. "I love you."

Once the shock has worn off, he drops his briefcase and pulls her against him, drawing back only for a moment to press a solid kiss against her lips and return the sentiment. "I love you, too." She already knows, of course, they both do, but it's been so long since the words came alive between them that they both settle into it, holding one another's gaze and searching for meaning within each other's eyes even as it refuses to surface.

Time stands still until Grays hops out of her chair and clambers toward the couple, wrapping her pudgy arms around each of their knees in a makeshift group hug and peering up at them with a fresh set of brown eyes that hold none of the pain.

If he didn't feel so utterly wrong at the thought of it, he might smile.

* * *

Alaric Saltzman knew there was something off about the little girl who wandered into his school claiming to be a vampire and requesting to be enrolled the moment he saw her. His initial reaction was that she was lying, but then she withstood the test of compulsion, leaving him no choice but to keep her close in hopes of unravelling the peculiarities of the mystery. Of course, Hope had been all too keen to take a stab at cracking her.

"She didn't care about anything in your lair except the stupid car." Exasperation is evident in Hope's voice as she reports back to her headmaster.

"The car?" This kid is full of curveballs.

Hope smoothes her hands over the artifacts in the office, her brow knotted in deep contemplation. "I hate to admit it, but what if we're wrong." She laughs at the absurd simplicity of the thought. "What if she's just the wayward child she says she is and we're wasting all of this time chasing rabbits?"

Alaric's silence is his only reply, admitting wordlessly that there could be truth in Hope's words. Ever since his girls were small and it seemed like the world was out to get them every other day, he's had his guard up, and despite the fact that the school has been a safe haven for nearly ten years, his hypervigilance remains the deepest scar he carries from his early years in Mystic Falls.

As the afternoon sun puddles on the horizon and the students all settle into their evening routines, he's almost convinced himself that becoming unnerved by the tiny, traumatized Sarah Sterling is nothing more than further proof he's losing his mind. His hand finds his chin as he watches the primary school students run and play in the courtyard below his office window and it doesn't take long for him to find the suspect in question.

_What kind of evil would send a little girl to breech the walls of his precious school? An unbelievably cunning, chillingly deceptive sociopath who is… obsessed with Damon Salvatore's vintage car?_

A wave of ice washes over the headmaster's body as he stammers in place, nearly hitting the floor at the shock of it. Why he didn't think of it earlier, he doesn't know, but it's the only logical explanation.

* * *

It takes a while for Elena to get restless, but once it happens, she's a force to be reckoned with. Damon knows it—has experienced it firsthand for nearly the last 20 years of his life—and yet, when he comes through the door on Friday evening a week after their daughter disappeared into thin air, he's unprepared for the fiasco awaiting him.

To the untrained eye, nothing would appear amiss, but Damon can sense something is off as soon as he walks through the back door and hears Eminem blaring from the speaker system in their bedroom. As he ascends the stairs, he silently prepares himself for whatever strung out version of his wife awaits him. In her younger years, she took all of her frustrations out on him. Regardless of who initially did her wrong, she always managed to find a way to turn the tables on Damon, and he typically didn't mind all that much considering it never took long for her physical aggression to turn amorous.

When he swings the door open, though, no lamps (or lips, for that matter) come barreling at his face and Elena simply stands at the foot of the bed folding a pair of footie pajamas from a basket of clean laundry. He'd be tempted to think he was mistaken were it not for her incessantly tapping foot and the way she forcefully exhales, drawing her hand through her untamable mess of curls. "I had a thought," she thunders over the music, not bothering to turn her husband's way.

He doesn't have to ask to know what she means. Walking to the speaker, he shuts the rapper off mid-stanza and returns to her side. "What is it?" He asks, still unsure if he actually wants her to answer. "Well I laid down for a nap this afternoon when I got in from work and my mind started wandering to all of the terrible people we've dealt with in our lives thus far and how, one way or another, we've managed to best most of them."

She dumps the remainder of the laundry out on the bed with unmatched aggression, and as tempted as Damon is to prompt her to continue, he knows she's still processing it all in her own way, so he simply draws his hands up to her shoulders and begins to massage as she folds towels.

"Out of all the people we encountered, Damon, there was only one person hellbent on destroying you and me and our happiness for no particular reason. Katherine and Klaus and even Cade… as horrible as they all were, you could always trace their motivation to some form of justice or restitution, no matter how twisted it had become in their own minds. They were each just going after what they wanted and they were willing to do whatever it took in the process." She pauses for a moment, relaxing back into the simple pressure of Damon's skilled hands and wishing that she could close her eyes and forget the rest, as if somehow allowing the words to pass through her lips would make them come to life.

Turning in Damon's arms to face him full on, she holds his gaze with the ferocity of a mother bear and continues. "Only one person ever hurt us just because he could and I have no doubt he'd do it again if he had the chance…" Sobbing overtakes her before she can finish her sentence, and suddenly she finds herself shaking violently in her husband's arms, tormented by memories and terrorized by fear at the thought of what might lie ahead.

She never says the words, but he hears them all the same.

_Kai Parker kidnapped our daughter._

* * *

Author's Note: Several of you asked questions this week in your reviews and I wanted to take a moment to entertain your thoughts. As always, I truly appreciate you taking the time to analyze the work and ask thought-provoking questions. First of all, Alaric is a smart man, and I _definitely _think that he knows something is up with Stefanie. As for his relationship with the Salvatore family, I think I would describe it as distant. Since Damon and Elena are human and choose to live their lives as free of supernatural influence as possible for the sake of their children's safety, it would be difficult to maintain a close relationship, so I'd say that they only see him on rare occasions and have never introduced him to their kids.

As for Stefanie's maturity levels, I completely agree that her age does not excuse her galavanting off and scaring her parents to death. However, I will say that I believe she gets it honestly if you look back at both of her parents' reputations throughout the Vampire Diaries storyline. What united the kind orphan teenager and the sadistic vampire killer in the first place? They are both stubborn, curious martyrs with a tendency to be more than a little inconsiderate of other people when it comes to going after what they want. Like it or not, they're getting a dose of their own medicine.

I hope I've answered your questions and cleared up any misconceptions you might have up to this point! I apologize in advance for leaving you all on such a rotten cliffhanger, but I will be wrapping this story up soon (no more than 2-3 more chapters). Stay tuned for updates!


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